Page 1 of Morning Dove

Chapter One

Something wet hit her face. The spray was so shocking, Morning Dove froze. It only took a second to realize what happened and her face burned with humiliation as she wiped her cheek with the sleeve of her dress.

With a quick glance, she met the gaze of the man who spit on her as he walked past without a word. A tug at her shawl pulled it tighter around her shoulders as she crossed the rutted dirt road. She stepped back onto the sidewalk, sticking close to the buildings and avoiding the stares of those she passed.

It took only a few minutes to realize she picked the wrong day to come to town. People lingered on every doorstep, the sidewalks packed with townsfolk and the mass of bodies was hard to avoid. Stepping out of the path of an older woman giving her an unfriendly stare only caused her to bump into someone. She slammed into them with the whole of her body before stumbling away. “Sorry.”

Having them shove her out of their way was more shocking than being spit on. Stars flashed behind her eyelids when her head struck the wall. Pain traveled the length of her back, and she stood there still as a statue.

The man's dark eyes bore into hers as he stared down at her, his anger telling. “You’ve got no business mixing with decent folk.”

The hissed words seemed so loud inside her head. She bit her lip to keep from saying something she would regret while struggling to hold his gaze. His mouth twisted into a snarl, and she stared at his discolored teeth as the tinny music from the saloon down the street, and the multitude of voices of those walking on the sidewalk, vanished. She could hear nothing other than the sound of her blood rushing through her ears.

The man stood too close, his fetid breath rancid as he said, “You need to watch where you’re going.” His voice rasped as if he smoked too much, and his pock-marked face drew into a sneer that grew when two other men walked into view and stopped behind him.

A short fellow with ears that looked two sizes too big for his head hissed, “Worthless injun,” under his breath while looking at her. Those hissed words told her the anger this man had for her bumping into him had very little to do with her actually touching him, and everything to do with what she was. A woman of Native descent—something she could not change.

The hatred burning in her chest at big ears’ slur must have shone in her eyes. The man she had bumped into shoved her again, her teeth sinking into her lip hard enough she tasted blood. She stumbled away to put some distance between them and pulled that invisible cloak she used against the discrimination she faced most days around her and lifted her head before saying, “Keep your hands off of me.”

Laughter from the two men behind the brute only made him madder.

Since the day she had arrived in Willow Creek, she had dealt with the prejudice some of the townsfolk had toward her. Most everyone looked down on her and made snide remarks as she walked past them. She was used to it and if it were not for the liquor she could smell on this one's breath, she would say she already knew how this would play out, but the people who accosted her were not usually drunk. This guy was, which meant hateful words might not be the only thing he hurt her with.

She pushed past them but barely made two steps. He grabbed her in a painful grip before shoving her into the alley between the buildings. Her heart started pounding as he dragged her toward the clearing that sat behind the storefronts. She tripped over her feet trying to pull away and the only thing keeping her from hitting the ground was his beefy hand wrapped around her arm.

Morning Dove jerked against his hold again and slapped at his hand as he shoved her further into the alleyway. “Let go of me.”

All three of them laughed.

A sudden shadow blocked the light from the street. “Get your hands off of her!”

Morning Dove turned to the voice and her heart started pounding. It beat against her ribs so hard it was a wonder all of them did not hear it. She fixed her gaze on Ben Atwater as he stood in the mouth of the alley. His eyes were filled with a cold fury she had never seen before.

Like it did most days she saw him, her breath caught. She could not explain her reaction to him, but he made her knees weak with a single glance.

The man who still held her arm tightened his grip to the point of pain. She winced, the action enough to make Ben step into the narrow passage.

“I said, let her go.”

The expression, “things happened in a blink of the eye,” was as old as time and she had never thought much of it. Now she did. One moment she saw Ben charge into the alleyway, the next she was on her butt, watching in horror as Ben took on her three attackers, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as they dragged him into the clearing.

She sat in stunned silence, each smack of fist against flesh echoing through her head as Ben took on all three of them by himself.

He took a fist to the face, his head snapping back with the blow. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as blood flew from his nose. The sight was enough to clear the fog trying to take up residence inside her head. She jumped to her feet and screamed, “Stop it!”

No one acted as if they heard her.

Her heart pounded so hard watching them, she was sure it would burst from her chest at any moment. Fear that the three men beating Ben bloody would actually kill him snapped her out of her stunned stupor, and she ran to the street.

“I need help!” Everyone turned to look at her, but no one said a word. “Please.” She looked back to the alley. “They are killing him!”

For once, luck was on her side. She saw Marshal Avery step out of his office. Running in his direction, she hurried across the road. “Marshal! Marshal! They have Ben. They are going to kill him.”

“What?”

She did not wait for him to ask more questions, running back to the alleyway beside the mercantile instead while hoping he would follow her. When she stepped into the clearing, Ben was on the ground, the three who had shoved her off the sidewalk kicking him in turn.

A single shot fired from Marshal Avery’s pistol made everyone freeze. As fights went, this one was one-sided and unfair, but the men beating Ben had not come away unscathed. One's nose was bleeding, another, a split lip. When they stepped away from Ben, she stared at his crumpled form, hesitating before dropping to her knees by his side as the Marshal and a few other men who had followed him into the clearing dealt with the three strangers.

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